Fire, Ice, and Rage Inside (A SuperWhoLock fanfic)
by MinionAmongMooskateers
Summary: The Winchester boys are in London following a lead on the demon Crowley. But, when they run into two boys from baker street, they realize that things may be much more complicated than they first thought. With Crowley and Moriarty working together to free Lucifer from hell, the boys are forced to join forces as well as call on the help of a strange man who's known only as The Doctor
1. The Deal

A velvety darkness had fallen over London as the city drifted into unconsciousness. At one end of the city, a lone man stood watching the darkness fall from the dingy window of an abandoned building. His thin frame sported a suit, as dark as the hair he slicked back from his face. He popped a piece of gum into his mouth, and let his head sway along to the music drifting out of the phone in his pocket.

Behind him, seemingly out of nowhere, another man appeared in the shadows with no more than a soft rustling to give him away. The first man glanced up at the noise, turning off the music as he saw the other man's reflection in the window.

"Good evening," The new man said in a voice that was deep and somewhat mesmerizing. He stepped out of the shadows. He too was wearing a suit, though his was slightly lighter. He was older than the first man.

"Why am I here, Mr. Crowley?" The shorter man asked in his sing-song voice. He didn't bother leaving the window. The other man had yet to capture his interest.

"I'd like to purpose a deal," Crowley said, with a gesture, "Well, more a simple business transaction."

"And what could you possibly offer me that would make me even consider your deal?"

"I can give you what you want," Crowley said.

The younger man turned to face him, a spark of interest flaring in his dark eyes. "I'm listening."

"I can give you Sherlock Holmes' head on a platter," He said, then as an afterthought, he added, "For a… small price."

"What price?"

"Well, Mr. Moriarty," Crowley smiled, "I need a… small favor. We want similar things, you and I. And I'd like to help you, help me, help ourselves."

"What kind of favor?"

"Just a few things I need help breaking. Nothing that you and your vast collection of degenerates can't handle."

"What things?" Moriarty asked, his interest was seriously beginning to get piqued now.

"Seals," Crowley replied.

Moriarty's dark eyes widened a bit as he realized what the other man was suggesting. "You're trying to raise Lucifer. You're going to start the apocalypse."

"And when our side win, which I guarantee we will, I'll make sure you're rewarded," Crowley said, taking a few steps closer. They were now face to face, only inches between them. "You can have your fun killing Mr. Holmes in every way imaginable. The possibilities are endless. That is, if we have a deal."

Moriarty was quiet, considering his options. After a moment, he met Crowley's dark eyes. "I take it this isn't a deal to be sealed by a handshake."

"You would be right."

A smirk turned up the corners of Moriarty's lips. "You could buy me dinner first."

"You agree to the deal, and I'll buy you the entire restaurant," Crowley said, "So… What do you say?"

"I'd say you have yourself a deal," Moriarty chimed, his sing-song voice dancing over the words.

"Marvelous," Crowley said, then raised an eyebrow. "Shall we?"

The two men leaned towards each other slowly, until their lips met. The kiss wasn't romantic. On the contrary, it was rather business-like. Firm and full of purpose. A moment later, they broke apart and stood, looking at the other.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Crowley said, a smug smile on his stubble lined face.

Moriarty grinned, a soft laugh escaping his throat as he looked up at his new partner. "Oh, this is going to be very fun."


	2. Chapter 2

"Sammy, I can't do this," Dean said, knuckles turning white as he gripped the Impala's steering wheel. His jaw was clenched and his lips pursed, and they weren't ever out of the car yet.

"It's just a plane, Dean," Sam said, smirking to himself. His brother's fear of flying always amused him. "You'll be fine."

"Planes crash, Sam!" Dean said turning slightly panicked green eyes to his brother.

"Rarely," Sam said, stifling a laugh. "Look, Dean, we owe it to Bobby. We at least have to check it out."

Dean hesitated, already feeling a bit sick, "You're absolutely sure we don't know anyone near London who can take care of this?"

"Positive. All of Bobby's contacts, and Dad's for that matter, are in the US." Sam frowned as he took in how terrified his brother was (granted, the last time they had been on a plane it had almost crashed). "Look, you're this freaked out and we're still in the car. We can call this off if you want to."

"No," Dean said, letting out a determined breath. "This is Crowley were talking about. I can just add 'making me get on a plane' to the list of reasons to gank his ass."

"Good," Sam said. He smirked at the memory of the last time they had been on a plane. "You can hum Metallica if that'll help."

"Shut up," Dean said, rolling his eyes, but he let go of the steering wheel. They stepped out into the chilly evening air and shut the car doors behind them, Dean shutting the driver side with unnecessary force. "Let's just get this over with."

A few hours later, Sam sat starring out of the plane's window (Dean had insisted that he take that one in case the glass were to break). The sky had turned a velvety shade black. He glanced over at Dean who was snoring slightly, finally quieted by the fact that Sam had slipped a sleeping pill into his beer while he was hitting on the stewardess. After three hours of his brother's relentless complaining and trying to work the word 'Christo" into every conversation as loudly as he could, Sam had needed a break.

He finally turned his attention back to papers Bobby had given them before they'd left. London was being wrecked by demonic omens. Freak lightning storms, electrical shortages, and mysterious deaths, to name a few. The deaths had all the signs of demonic work. Throat sliced ear to ear, but missing blood. No bite marks and the hearts were still there, so that ruled out werewolves and vamps. So, they had most likely died in order for a demon to make a call. But they were seemingly unconnected. The only thing they had in common was the fact they had all been homeless. But with five bodies cut and bled, something had to be connecting them. But just what, Sam didn't know. He was sure Crowley was playing a part in whatever was happening, but what role he had, or how big that role was, he had no idea.

"What are you up to?" He whispered, scanning a new page.

"Nothing, why?"

"Jesus, Cas!" Sam said, jumping as the Angel appeared in the empty seat on the other side of Dean. "You scared me."

"I apologize," The Angel replied, his deep blue eyes fixed on Sam's.

"How'd you know where to find us?"

"Bobby told me your flight number," He said, glancing uneasily around the plane. "And Dean called me."

"Wh…In his sleep?"

"Apparently," Cas said, glancing down at the older Winchester. Sam smiled, shuffling the pages back into their file. Cas shifted uncomfortably in his seat, before meeting Sam's eyes again. "Sam, I know you two are going after Crowley."

"And let me guess," Sam said, sighing. "You're here to stop us."

"You think so little of me, Sam." The angel said, the smallest hint of a smile playing on the corner of his lips. "I want to help."

Sam smiled, "I'm happy you're on board."

"Just tell me what you need. I'll help in whatever way I can."

"If you could just keep an eye out for anything suspicious, see what you can find out from the Angels. We need to find out what Crowley's up to, and right now, we've only got a few omens to go on. We're almost flying blind."

"I'll see what I can do."

Sam opened his mouth to thank him, but Cas was already gone. He sighed turning back to the widow, smiling slightly as beside him, Dean began to hum his favorite Metallica song in his sleep.


End file.
